Six years, one ex, five cats—and a very unconventional family
I’ve been living with my ex for six years. We broke up after four years of dating—two of them, living-in—but we still share a home to this day, and five cats.
People often react with shock, fascination, and an alarming lack of boundaries. “Do you still sleep together?” “How do you resist? Isn’t it awkward?” It’s as if living with an ex switches off people’s filters. I get it though—the arrangement confuses them. Relationships that end are supposed to be messy, cleanly cut off, filed under ‘the past’.
But if the last decade has taught me anything, it’s that relationships don’t always follow a script. While some relationships dissolve and disappear entirely; others evolve and take on another form—a form that might not look like anything we’ve been taught, but that still holds weight and meaning for the people involved.
Representative image: A still from Wake Up Sid
How I met my ‘roommate’
I met my ex 11 years ago, a few months after I turned 21. I was the emcee at a college festival and he was the 24-year-old bassist with the band that was performing that day. He wore a hideous t-shirt and orange pants, but fashion disaster aside, he rocked out on stage—and later, was the only one who congratulated me on a job well done. Instantly I felt, “Yep, this is going to happen.”
For most of my 20s, he was my anchor and entire support system. I was new to Mumbai, with no family here, juggling high rent, toxic work places and unresolved childhood trauma. My work at the time, as a celebrity manager, made for ungodly hours, which meant life was not sustainable without help, especially because I had adopted two cats, too. He would make sure I ate, pick me up from 3am meetings so I wouldn’t pass out in a random cab, handle vet appointments and even clean the litter. He showed up for me when I needed it most. After dating for two years, we moved in together.
But just two years in—and three additional cats later—the cracks began to appear.
The author with her flatmate and cat Leo
From lovers and friends, to haters…and friends
We were fighting constantly. A daily argument used to be about food prep for the week. It would lead to battle cries on my part about the amount of labour I had to shoulder because of his complete lack of input aside from, “Let’s boil vegetables”. The only thing that would boil was my blood, at his utter disinterest. I would unleash my fury, which would trigger a shut down from him, and make things even worse.
There were deeper problems, of course—we were both carrying a lot of emotional baggage. He had an addiction that he was struggling to acknowledge, and I had PTSD from an alcoholic abusive father. Those things don’t mix well when you’re trying to build a life together.
We tried to fix it. We promised to do better by controlling our moods, taking timeouts, writing long letters to one another explaining our feelings. But the bottomline was this: as individuals, we had both been through too much in our lives, and lacking the maturity to fix our own problems, we were taking it out on each other. Not only were we being bad partners, we were starting to corrode our friendship. That’s when we really hit pause.
However messy our relationship had become, the friendship we had shared was still precious to us. Not to mention our routine, and the safe space we had been able to provide for each other over time. So, after almost half a decade together, we broke up.
But before we had a chance to move out, COVID hit. The pandemic forced us into the lockdown together, and eventually we decided to stay on—partly because Mumbai rent is a nightmare, but mostly because neither of us were really ready to let go of what we had built.
Kugisaki and Jhambal, two of the five cats that are being co-parented by the author
A different kind of intimacy
When people hear “comfort and convenience”, they often assume it means sexually. For me, it was more about stability. It was easier to share rent than double my financial burden. It was easier to split housework than manage everything alone. He takes care of the cats’ litter boxes (a chore I’ve hated almost as much as I love my cats). I cook and fix things when they break, and keep the house stocked with snacks. (20 questions to ask yourself before moving in with a friend)
The standard assumption about staying with an ex, is also that there are unresolved feelings between the parties. This isn’t true for us. We have a life together that suits and grounds us, and we didn’t want to throw that out with the romance. I joke that he’s the father of my five children, and he says I am his most important friend. Our families are happy that we each have someone to rely on. So why break a good thing? Neither of us had cared for tradition before, so a traditional break-up wouldn’t be our style either.
Representative image: Pexels.com
How it really works
Our relationship hasn’t magically become conflict-free. We still argue—same frequency, just less intensity. How? When we set out on this new path, we agreed we couldn’t repeat the mistakes that tore us apart as a couple.
For one, our conflict style needed work. Screaming matches followed by us shutting down was not helping either of us grow. So we had an honest conversation and agreed we needed a safe word. Now when things escalate (usually me), one of us yells, “SRK!” (for Shah Rukh Khan, of course—his nemesis and my joy). It works like a charm.
And when either one of us wants to vent about something, we ask, “Do you want comfort or solutions?” That question picked up from a Pinterest post has helped us countless times. It’s almost comic: the maturity that escaped us as partners has found us as roommates.
As for our timeless meal prep problem, we analysed what the emotional triggers were and what patterns we needed to break to avoid the spiral that usually follows. Additionally, we now share a Youtube playlist of recipes we mutually love, while taking weekly turns to figure out the food menu. We also could finally afford to hire help in the kitchen.
Of course, it’s not all seamless. This new equation comes with its own unique challenges. The first time either of us brought someone else home, the air was thick with unspoken jealousy and competitiveness. Mine wasn’t about him sleeping with someone new; it was about the quality of women he was attracting—smart, beautiful, fascinating—while I was on Hinge being asked if I had an “older man fetish” by SoBo uncles. The pettiness of jealousy doesn’t vanish just because you’ve rebranded your ex as a roommate.
Where does the love go?
The question always lingers: when you break up, where does the love go? For us, it felt like a decade-long investment we weren’t ready to discard. So we poured that love into a friendship that is built on shared history, ridiculous inside jokes, and a chaotic home filled with five cats.
Lockdown forced us into a domestic partnership we hadn’t planned for, but somewhere in that claustrophobic space, we learned how to be kinder, more forgiving versions of ourselves. We became better roommates than we ever were partners.
Our dynamic is a work in progress, but it’s one I wouldn’t trade. When I look back on the decade, I don’t see a failed relationship. I see two people who stubbornly refused to discard what they built, even when the form of it had to change.
Living with my ex still confuses people, but for me, it’s simple: he’s no longer my partner, but he is—and will always be—my family.
